


I'm Still Into You.

by kotabear24



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Gemma Styles/Harry Styles, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Heterosexual Sex, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Siblings, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kotabear24/pseuds/kotabear24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gemma visits Harry in Australia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Still Into You.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd never really thought of Gemma/Harry before until I clicked on it accidentally - and then read all the ones AO3 had...which is a severely low number. Everyone should go write it because omg.
> 
> (Also, in case this isn't clear in the fic, the boys _don't_ know about Gemma and Harry.)

“Sure you’ve not forgotten me and gone all mad over Cara or Rita Ora?” Gemma asks when she’s invited to Australia, and Harry huffs and fights the urge to roll his eyes. If he did, Gemma would say she’s only joking, but Harry knows there was truth to her words, real uncertainty.

And the thing is, it’s fair enough. Harry’s certainly seen enough in photos that can be easily made to be something they’re not – Harry seemingly reaching for Cara’s hand in a sweetheart-y way when really, he’s just trying to get her attention so he can say goodbye leave the fashion show…to Skype with Gemma; Harry leaning in with his lips puckered up towards Rita after she’d smashed it at a concert when really, he’s just greeting her with air kisses pressed against her cheek. Harry is very well-known for being a womanizer – granted, he’s never been with any of these women in _that way_ , because he has a girlfriend already to whom he’s incredibly faithful – and media is very talented at creating things where nothing exists.

Harry doesn’t want to blow this up into a fight because he’s been on her side of things – when she’d gone off to uni, Harry’d nearly driven himself mad with worries that she’d find some bloke her own age and with experience outside their big sister. Just after he’d gone to The X-Factor, there had been a man Gemma had brought home, named Liam, and Harry had particularly disliked him, and it had been solely based on jealousy. Gemma had broken things off with him rather quickly, once she realized that Harry becoming famous hadn’t changed his feelings for her, and they’d had a horribly nasty argument that had ended in horribly incredible sex. 

“Look, just – just come, okay?” He says, pushing his hair from his eyes as he looks into the computer screen. “We’ll have some fun.”

“Proper sibling bonding,” she snorts, and Harry tries to keep his weird cackle-laugh at bay because she always makes fun of him for it, he really does, but there’s not a single person in the world with the exact same sense of humor as him other than Gemma, and he finds it incredible. “Oh, _very_ composed-superstar of you,” she says drily, rolling her eyes when Harry lets the cackle loose, making Harry blush and giggle.

“So, you’ll come, then?” He asks eventually, single-minded when it comes to seeing his sister.

Gemma sighs. “Let me see what I can do,” she begins, and Harry groans and flops to his side, out of the view of the camera. 

“Ge-em,” he whines, stretching the syllable into two while she just laughs at him. “Gem, you _always_ do this to me.” Harry straightens back up and tilts his screen, pouting in what he’s praying is a face that’ll work on her for once.

Gemma sighs. They’ve had this whiny argument quite a few times. “Harry…” she begins, but Harry cuts her off, keeping his voice level.

“Look,” he says, hoping that a mature tone will make her reconsider, “you’re finished in school, you don’t start working until _next_ Tuesday, and the rest of your friends are either doing one or the other. Come to Australia, Gem! We can shop, and eat, and go out to no-camera clubs and watch Louis and Liam surf! We can hole up in my hotel room; Australia’s got some _really_ nice ones,” he says, and Gemma’s shoulders lose some of their tension. Harry’s voice gets deeper. “My one last time had that hot tub, d’you remember?” 

Gemma rolls her eyes. “You sent me about ten pictures of your willy in the bubbles, H; how could I _not_?” Harry’s face burns red. He’d really only sent her three. Alright, four. But there were so many settings and he missed her. 

“Let me fly you out here,” he pleads with her softly. “It’s been months since I’ve seen you; I _miss_ you.”

Gemma’s face softens and a little smile quirks up the side of her lips. “I miss you, too,” she admits, nose scrunching playfully like she hadn’t wanted to admit it. “All those fun toys you’ve got me?” Harry nods, though he knows she’s not waiting for it. “They can fuck me really well, but not even that tongue-thing you got can lick me out the way I like.”

Harry’s mouth waters at the thought, and he shifts a bit, pressing his dick into the mattress subtly.

Or not.

Gemma laughs, sounding delighted, and even though Harry knows that’s not always a good sign, it’s a lovely sound, and he smiles at it. “Are you getting hard?” She asks gleefully, and Harry groans and smushes his face into the mattress as she laughs at him. 

“I’m a teenage boy,” he argues, “and my girlfriend refuses to let me fly her out to see me.”

Gemma laughs harder at his whining, and then sighs. “Get yourself off before ’46 and you can fly me out and have me meet you there,” she says, and Harry wastes no time.

His clock says 12:44 as he flops on his back and even as he licks his palm he moves his head out of the way so Gemma can see down the line of his torso to where he’s stroking his cock. Harry thinks of the taste and warmth of Gemma’s pussy surrounding his face, how her nipples trail, hardened, against his skin and how she cries out when he sucks them as he fucks her. He thinks of the way her lips stretch around his cock and how much she moves around when she lets him lay on top as they fuck, like she’s not used to giving up the control in such a way. 

Harry arches up a tiny bit but tries to keep himself rigid as possible so he doesn’t block the come shot – Gemma loves watching how high on his chest his come can get – and by the time he’s done stroking and he’s just breathing, the clock says 12:47. Harry freezes, looking upside down at Gemma on his screen. “Please tell me I did it,” he says hoarsely, and Gemma laughs quietly at him, looking fond.

“What were you thinking about?” She asks, and Harry swallows.

“You, silly,” he answers, voice a bit raw, and Gemma’s breath hitches, and one of her shoulders moves a bit, her arm off camera mostly. Harry’s lips curve into a smile. “Are you getting yourself off?” He asks dirtily, and Gemma only nods at him, eyelids dropping a tiny bit. 

Harry heaves himself around, lying on his stomach. The maids will clean his come from the blanket either way. “Show me,” he demands, and Gemma only smirks at him before she moves the computer off her desk and onto her bed, rolling her chair back and spreading her legs to show Harry where her skirt is pulled up and she’s wearing no underwear. Two fingers are playing with her clit and Harry watches raptly as she slides the finger inside herself, and then two, sliding in and out slowly. “Go for it, Gemma,” he says quietly, and Gemma moans a little bit as another finger from her other hand wetly lands on her clit to stimulate it rapidly. Her hips shift on the chair and Harry stares in fascination. “What are you thinking about?” He asks roughly. “Tell me.”

Gemma laughs and it’s a moment before her rhythm goes back to normal. “That time in – _fuck_ – in America when everyone – everyone kept trying to come in…and you were so turned on. Ate me out like you never would again.” Gemma cuts herself off on a moan and Harry watches, fascinated, as come falls gracefully out around her fingers as she taps at her clit a few times, clenching around nothing when she pulls her fingers out. The fingers disappear and Harry knows she’s sucking them clean as the computer is moved back around to its proper place on the desk.

Gemma looks flushed and a little sweaty, but beautiful, and rolls her eyes when Harry tells her so, though she’s fighting back a smile. 

“You’re not exactly unattractive, yourself,” she says reluctantly, like she hates to stroke his ego. Harry beams at the compliment anyway. 

“So,” Harry coughs, “did I do it? Come before ’46? Can I book the ticket?”

Gemma mock-sighs, but Harry knows she’s already mentally packing. “Don’t make me get up early,” she says, and Harry snatches his phone up from the bed where he’s laying. Gemma looks off-camera for a bit and then back to Harry, a tiny bit of a frown showing, and Harry sets his phone down for a second. He knows Gemma hates goodbyes. 

“Hey, I have to go,” she says softly, and Harry nods. “I’ll – see you soon, right?”

“’Course,” Harry smiles. “I’ll send you all the flight info.” Gemma nods. “I love you,” he offers, knowing if she doesn’t go now she’ll be in a horrible mood the rest of the day.

Gemma clears her throat. She never did like crying. “Yeah, I love you, too,” she answers, and blows him a kiss, waits for him to return it, and ends the Skype call.

Harry blows out a gust of air and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He allows himself thirty seconds of feeling sad and then picks up his phone, looking for flights to Australia. 

\---

Gemma’s flight comes in about a half hour after One Direction’s does, so Harry keeps his head down and a security guard stays with him and leads him into a crowded café near Gemma’s gate. Towards the end of the half hour, Harry is recognized by a group of girls his age visiting from America as a graduation present from their parents. Harry takes pictures and signs things and says hello into phones until he’s a few minutes late to get to Gemma’s gate, and he excuses himself and walks as quickly as he can without attracting attention.

Gemma’s looking around curiously when he sees her, and the stupid, soppy part of him wants to shout her name, run to her, and pick her up and twirl her around and plant a big huge kiss right on her lips – but there are a few things wrong with that equation (one being he’s Harry Styles and it would attract a riot; two being she _despises_ big romantic displays of affection; three being Gemma’s not one to appreciate being manhandled usually; and four being she is his _sister_ and regardless of anything, that is definitely not allowed), so Harry just walks up to her and hugs her fiercely. 

Gemma hugs back – she always hugs back – and tucks her face into his neck so she can kiss the skin his low collar is showing without anyone seeing, but when she pulls away, her face is a little sour. “I had fans on my flight,” she says drily, and Harry tries not to laugh. “They didn’t recognize me for most of the flight, but I feel like I know entirely too much about your sexual relationship with Louis.”

Harry loses it this time, laughing into his hands, and takes her carry-on and backpack off her shoulder before putting a socially acceptable amount of space between himself and his sister. Gemma doesn’t have another suitcase, having learned the art of folding wonderfully – something Harry is still working on perfecting – so Harry, Gemma, and Preston head where Preston says the car is waiting for them. 

“I’m so glad you came,” Harry says to her quietly, and Gemma laughs.

“Alright, The Wanted,” she says, but her hand brushes against the back of his before he weakly slaps at her arm.

In the car, Harry wants nothing more than to lay her down in the backseat and makeout with her and bury his face and fingers into her pussy until she’s moaning with her feet moving restlessly on his back, but it’s just a regular van, and they'd be seen. Preston sits up front with the driver, and Harry has enough forethought to drop his and Gemma’s things into the middle seat so they have to sit in the back row, but he still can’t kiss her or even look at her in the ways he wants to. 

Instead, they look out the window and talk about their flights, and Gemma’s upcoming internship she’s working for, and Harry’s just been updating her on Grimmy and his boyfriend when he feels the hand that’s been sitting his knee slide solidly up his thigh and settle onto the crotch of his jeans. Harry’s dressed to the left today, as Gemma quickly finds out, and his never-ending Grimmy story finds a quick end. 

“A-and, erm, you know. They fucked a few times and fought and made up so now Grimmy’s back. That’s about it.” 

Gemma hums like she's been interested, and Harry leans his head against the window and closes his eyes, praying that she stops with enough time to get his boner down before they have to get out of the car and fans see him with a hard dick standing next to his big sister. “Preston, how much longer do we have?” He asks, then, and bites his lip as Gemma presses down on a drag up his cock through his jeans.

“’Be there in about ten, mate,” he answers, and Harry looks wide-eyed at Gemma, shaking his head.

“Gem, there’ll be fans there,” he says lowly, and Gemma grins wickedly.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, leaning closer to him, putting more weight on her hand against Harry’s cock. “Don’t want those little girls knowing you like to _fuck your big sister_?” She whispers the last part to him, but Harry groans a little bit because it’s not often that Gemma has a filthy mouth but he is _so_ okay with it. 

“Alright, Harry?” Preston asks, and Harry swallows. 

“Yeah,” he says, “erm. Stomach ache, is all.” And everyone knows Harry hates lying and so rarely does it, so Preston accepts it without a doubt, and Gemma snorts. 

“I’ll make you some of that soup Mum always makes,” she says, loud enough for Preston to hear, giving her a perfect excuse to come into his room right away without raising eyebrows, now that Harry’s gone and told his security he’s not feeling well. Harry nods, looking at her appreciatively, and her hand slides back to his thigh, squeezing fondly.

\---

“Shit, I have missed you,” Harry says as soon as the door’s closed. He leans against it and pulls at Gemma’s wrist, turning her around and tugging her close, smiling at her happy grin. He slides a hand into her hair behind her ear and leans down and kisses her sweetly, humming at her familiar smell and the way she kisses him back easily, not needing it to go anywhere. 

But neither of them can ignore that they’ve been on planes for _hours_ , so Gemma goes to shower and Harry brushes his teeth, sneaking in behind her when he’s done. Gemma lets out a short little shriek when his hands settle on her hips, and she slaps his chest even while she laughs, and Harry rinses the awful hotel shampoo from her hair and gives her his own. Gemma shampoos her hair while Harry gets out his body wash and rubs it over her body, ignoring her disgruntled and half-hearted complaints that she’ll smell like a posh, spoiled popstar in the morning. He stands back and watches her, allowing himself to be turned on even though he knows they won’t do anything before a few hours of sleep. 

When Gemma’s finished, Harry shampoos his own hair, and Gemma takes the opportunity to trace the muscles of his torso enough to make him shiver, and follow the suds’ trails when he washes it out. Harry scrubs himself down thoroughly as Gemma kisses his lips and steps out, wrapping a towel around her body and brushing her own teeth. 

By the time Harry steps out of the bathroom in his towel, Gemma’s already throwing off the decorative pillows and leaning to pull back the covers, Harry’s shirt riding up her hip to expose her pink panties. Harry moves to his already-opened suitcase and grabs a pair of briefs, dropping the towel and letting Gemma look as he puts them on. 

They make it into the bed and Gemma scoots up close to him, laying her head on his chest. Harry pulls her close, leaning his head on top of hers, and curls his fingers around her waist. He presses kisses to her forehead until she slaps his chest in annoyance, and he laughs until they fall asleep curled around each other.

\---

Harry moans when he hears his phone going off as an alarm, snuffling and rolling further into his pillow. The warmth at his side leaves him and he whines, but the alarm silences, so he just rolls over again and tucks the blanket closer to himself, easily falling back to sleep.

Maybe half an hour later, he’s woken up with Gemma crawling on top of him, laying on his chest and whispering into his ear, “If you can tell me seven things about Australia I’ll blow you _right now_.”

He’s got slightly wet fingers pulling his waistband away from his skin when he realizes she’s serious and his mind springs into action. “’S got – erm. Big snakes. That’s one. Erm, that alligator guy, Steve-something, he was from here; two. ‘S always hot. It’s its own continent, right? Four. Er…” Gemma’s fingers are scratching through his pubic hair and he doesn’t think it’s quite a fair move but he’s not going to say anything, and his brain scrambles for three more pieces of information. “Koalas and kangaroos are from here…five. I – erm. New Zealand is like a territory of theirs or something, like – Canada and America, sort’ve. Six. Shit, Gem, you – Australia’s spiders get bigger than my hand. _Fuck_ ,” Harry groans as Gemma suddenly surrounds the head of his cock with her mouth, as if she’d been waiting her whole life for it.

Harry threads his hair in her fingers and does his best to keep still as she slides down further on his cock a bit, getting with her hand what she can’t with her mouth. She licks at the head and hums around it, and Harry pushes himself up on his elbows, blinking sleepily, to see the way her lips are puffed out over his cock, her eyes shut because she loves sucking cock. It’s her own pleasure she’s seeking right now, not his, and for some reason, Harry loves that more than anything and it really doesn’t take long before he’s pulling gently on her hair right at her scalp and she opens her eyes to see how flushed his face is before she pulls off, stroking him quickly, and sucks at his balls for a bit before his stomach is clenching and he’s coming. Come gets on Gemma’s cheek but she quickly fits her lips around his cock so the rest of it lands on her tongue, and she moans to make it better for him.

Harry lays on the bed panting for a moment, and Gemma crawls up his body to give him kisses. She’s always most affectionate in the morning, before the day to day things piss her off and she’s left with sharp wit, sarcasm, and sex as her only forms of tangible affection.

Harry wipes his come off her cheek and wipes it on the bed before he wraps his arms around her back and kisses her thoroughly, wedging his thigh between hers so she can rub off on him before he returns the favor. 

But when he rolls them over, gently setting Gemma on her back, and her gentle waves fan out on the white sheets, she just hums and twists fingers in his hair instead of letting him suck light marks down her body. “As much as I’d _love_ for you to, Liam’s been at the door about three times, now.”

Harry freezes, and as if on cue, someone bangs on the door. “Harry, Gemma,” Zayn calls through the door, “we’re gonna be late; get up.”

Harry moans. If _Zayn_ is telling him to hurry up, he must really be late. “Shit,” he whines to Gemma. “We’ll be down in a minute, sorry,” he calls, and hears Zayn walk away without answering. Harry leans his forehead against Gemma’s collarbone for a second before he kisses it and hauls himself up, searching through his suitcase for a beanie; his hair’s a mess today. 

“I told Liam you weren’t feeling well yesterday, so I was letting you sleep it off,” Gemma tells him as she sits up, searching for her shoes. Harry grunts in acknowledgement so she doesn’t repeat herself. He brushes his teeth and takes the clothes Gemma’s holding out for him, kissing her quickly in thanks.

Hotel key, wallet, phone, Gemma, and he’s got everything he needs for the day, so they leave the hotel room and hurry down the hall to Liam’s room, where they meet every hotel-morning. The lads greet Gemma warmly, and Harry squeezes her shoulder when they both see Eleanor standing off to the side. 

Neither of them are particularly fond of Eleanor, but it’s really more what she represents – Louis being forced to stay in the closet because it “doesn’t look good” – than anything else (although Eleanor is a bit too materialistic for either of them to bond with her deeply and is _certainly_ not independent enough for Gemma’s personal taste of friends), so Gemma is often stood next to her during shows and the like. Harry knows Gemma hates it, would rather be allowed to hang out with the lads than stuck with the fashion/hair/makeup conversations Eleanor, Caroline, and Lou have (although Gemma does quite like Lou and Lux), so he does what he can, presses all the buttons he knows with the security teams, and knows that it creates more problems for himself, Louis, and Eleanor with the fans (who all pick up on the fact that Louis _could_ have Eleanor around more often, like Harry did with Gemma, but simply doesn’t want to put in the effort) and their Larry Stylinson beliefs. But their crew all like Gemma enough and have said they’re content enough to let her see everything as long as she stays out of the way (she doesn’t, really) and doesn’t post tweets that will give anything away (she does). 

They go over the plan for today – only a few hours of interviews and promo, a few hours off to have fun, and then the show – and Harry does his best to concentrate because this is his _career_ , his _dream_ , but Gemma’s next to him standing tall and looking fiercely confident as usual, and he keeps getting distracted by what an incredible woman he’s been dating since he was about fourteen.

During the interviews, Harry does his job and interacts with the interviewers and the boys and really, it’s not a show at all – he really does genuinely love these boys as his brothers and would die for them in a heartbeat – but he sees the way Gemma smiles fondly at him when she thinks he’s focused on the interviewers’ questions. 

Louis, at one point, answers a question about how it is to have friends and family join them on tour, and mentions how it’s tricky because they (the boys) have to find a way to balance working and spending quality time with their visitor but also doing their best to make sure their visitor’s not horribly bored while they’re working, and how it’s actually quite a bit of work to have them. It’s all true, but Harry sees how Gemma’s face gets a tiny bit withdrawn afterwards, and he really wishes Louis had just stuck with the typical, noncommittal, ‘Yeah, it’s awesome to see them, etc., etc.’ instead.

After the interviews are done, Harry finds Gemma playing with Lux in a patch of grass next to where the van is parked, and he sits down next to her and watches Lux clumsily chase a little football. Gemma leans closer to him just barely, and Harry nudges her shoulder with is, looking at her while she draws in the dirt with a long stick. “Everything okay?” He asks.

“Is it really that bad?” She asks, not looking at him. “I mean, having me here. Are you running around like a headless chicken, worried about me? ‘Cause I’m o-”

“No, I’m not,” Harry lies, just a little bit. “You entertain yourself just fine. If you’re bored, you find things to do. I mean, I worry a little bit that you’re not having fun, like, on our busy days if you’re stuck with the girls too long, but…that’s why I always get you cleared to hang out with us as much as possible.” Harry ducks his head to peer at her, and smiles tentatively when they make eye contact. “ _Are_ you bored when you visit me?” He asks, a little smile on his face.

Gemma smiles reluctantly, and rolls her eyes, turning her attention to Lux. “Of course not,” she answers him softly. “I _like_ getting to see you. Even if it’s just a few hours a day, or whatever; seeing you do all your popstar-y things is kind of fun. And the concerts are fun, too. And I’ve got Lou, and Lux, and whatever boy isn’t doing an interview at the time…I’m alright,” she says, looking back at him for a moment.

Harry nods. “Then, I’m not worried,” he says easily, shrugging. “Tell me if you get bored, though; we’ll sneak off and give the security a collective heart-attack.” 

Gemma laughs and pushes him over, and Lux rushes over to his aid, where he’s dramatically moaning in pain. Harry looks over Lux’s blonde little pigtails, where she’s playing doctor to his fake wounds, and sees Gemma with her head back, laughing openly.

\---

“So, Harry,” Louis begins at lunch, and Harry looks up from his lo mein with a feeling of dread at Louis’ tone. “Who was the chick you were banging this morning?”

Gemma looks up from her general tso’s and rice, and Harry coughs, blush spreading his cheeks. “What are you talking about?” She asks Louis.

Louis gives Gemma a glance, and Harry can see him weighing the pros and cons of being vulgar in her presence, but the pros of embarrassing Harry must weigh out because he says, “Harry’s only ever late when he’s fucking a girl or sick, and he doesn’t look too peaky to me.”

Niall laughs loudly and Liam looks like he’s doing a complicated math problem in his head to drown out the conversation, while Zayn snorts at Harry’s misfortune. Gemma looks unimpressed.

“But I thought Gemma was with Harry this morning?” Liam jumps in finally, and Louis looks at him, surprised. 

“Was she?” He asks, looking from Liam to Harry to Gemma. Harry and Gemma nod. Louis’ gleeful face falls and he tucks back into his food, foregoing the chopsticks and using a fork. “Well, that’s just much less interesting,” he mutters, and Harry laughs outright at him, earning a face full of rice from across the table. 

\---

Harry is singing in the shower when Gemma slips in with him, tickling up his ribcage and making his voice break embarrassingly. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of your own voice?” She teases him, and kisses him before she can respond. “I want you to get out of this shower and come fuck me.” Gemma sets her teeth gently into Harry’s neck, and he moans, pulling her close before pushing her against the shower wall. She hisses when the cold presses against her back, but his fingers slide to her pussy and suddenly she doesn’t seem to care too much about it. 

Harry wastes no time sliding a finger into her and back out, pressing on a different wall each time he slides back in, and she’s bucking against his hand by the time Harry’s fully hard against her stomach.

He pulls his finger out and shuts off the shower, not bothering to dry himself off as he takes her hand and leads her back to the bed. He pulls her hair from its tie and runs his fingers gently through it, careful not to pull on any snags he might find.

She lays down on the bed and stares heavily at him, and he crawls up the bed, following, and lays himself down on top of her, bracing himself on his arms so he’s not too heavy. He kisses her thoroughly until she’s moaning, her hips rolling up into his for friction and her fingers pressing into his shoulders where she has her arms wrapped around his back. 

She leans her head back, gasping, as he kisses down her neck, pressing his teeth in enough that she can feel it but not enough to leave marks anyone would notice, and he’s got his knee up under him, pressed right against her pussy so she can grind herself on him by the time his mouth closes around her nipple. 

Gemma moans a little too loud when Harry sucks on her nipple and flicks his tongue against it rapidly, and when he moves to the other one, he pinches it and rolls it, flicking it and generally playing with her until he feels fingernails dig into his shoulder blade and decides it’s time to move on. 

Gemma’s hands are still on his shoulders and she moans in frustration when he scoots down, taking his knee away from her, and she can’t rub off on anything while Harry kisses down across her pale tummy – only one strange, tiny little freckle right above and to the left of her belly button – to her hips, sucking bruises on each side. She spreads her legs out underneath his hands, and her fingers twist into his hair, ready to tell him if he’s taking too long. 

But Harry’s been without sex – and with Gemma – for just as long as she has, now, so he doesn’t waste any time. He kisses her inner thighs and licks at the crease where they meet her pussy, and just when her fingers are getting twitchy against his scalp, he spreads her open with his thumbs and his tongue licks straight up her center, pausing to press against her clit, like he knows she likes. 

He licks up the mess she’s already made until there’s not much left, and then he sucks on her lips, her clit, and then points his tongue to gently trace every line and lick every inch of her with the lightest, sweetest bit of pressure until Gemma’s desperate for something substantial and pulls his face down into her cunt, moaning his name. Her knees rise up and her feet land on his lower back, heels spurring him in the sides until his tongue fucks straight down into her, licking in and out as fast as possible. His nose presses against her clit and he shifts to get deeper and she comes, hips arching and thighs closing right above his ears and feet digging into his back in a way that hurts but he doesn’t stop until she’s gasping and pulling his hair, pulling him up, her name falling off her lips. 

Harry crawls quickly up and kisses her, Gemma panting in her mouth and she can obviously taste herself and feel how wet the rest of Harry’s face is, but she doesn’t seem to care, thighs trembling as aftershocks tremble through her once. Harry slides a hand down and pushes two fingers into her. It’s a bit of a stretch – she clearly doesn’t use her toys as often as Harry had pictured her using them – but she’s still plenty wet and with his thumb flicking side to side on her clit, it’s barely a moment before he’s inside her, twisting his fingers and curling up to stroke at her g-spot.

Gemma’s moans are one of Harry’s favorite sounds. They’re a mix of a guttural, pleased sound mixed with a surprised, overwhelmed and high-pitch whine, and they’re best when she’s already come at least once and they’re breathy, too. Harry’s getting those pressed against his cheek as she holds on to his shoulders tight, working his fingers and thumb against her. Harry slips in a third finger and Gemma goes silent, her mouth open wide and eyes rolling up before she flops back down onto the mattress with a loud _oh_ that sends precome leaking from Harry’s cock. 

“Harry. _Harry_ , fuck me, Harry come on,” Gemma says, and Harry has to jam his fingers in deep to get her to shut up before whoever’s in the next room realizes it’s Gemma’s voice calling his name. Harry reaches for the condom and slides it, running his wet fingers over his cock just as precaution, and he presses his cock into her.

The way Gemma’s hips come up and her thighs spread even more, like she’s making herself as available as possible for him, sets Harry on fire, and his fingers dig into her hips hard enough to bruise, which she’ll probably bitch at him for later, but he’s barely fully seated in her a second before her legs, hooked around his arse, are urging him forward. 

Harry sits up on his knees, pulling her hips up so that only half her back is even touching the mattress, and holds her still as he fucks into her. Gemma covers her mouth with her forearm, looking up with wide eyes at Harry as he grits his teeth and fucks into her hard. His fingers dig into her arse and he pulls her hips to meet him halfway, slamming himself into her so that she wails into her arm, loud enough that he hears it despite her mouth being covered. 

Harry swears under his breath when she tightens around him like a vice, coming hard. Her thighs fall weakly and he sets her back down on the bed, crawling forward and tucking his face in her neck. “Keep going,” she gasps as she wraps her arms under his and back over his shoulders, and Harry does immediately, panting into her chest as he fucks into her. She’s gone almost impossibly tight around him, and it’s not long before he’s on his last thrust and she scratches his shoulder as he fucks another orgasm from her. 

Harry stills, deep inside her, and she shakes, still able to go longer. Harry gives it a moment before he can breathe evenly and rubs her clit when he pulls out of her, ties it off and tosses it in the general direction of the bin. Gemma looks at him disapprovingly but Harry slides his middle and ring finger into her, the meat of his thumb against her clit, and starts jerking upwards with enough force to actually move her entire body. 

Gemma sounds startled, and maybe she is, because Harry’s never done this – he heard Niall talking about it and had been _dying_ to try it ever since – but Harry keeps going, feeling her tighten up again around his fingers, and she’s pushing his wrist out and squirting all over his hand, her thighs jerking and her back arching, her fingers flexing erratically as she whimpers because she’s never done that before.

Harry takes one look at his hand and looks back at Gemma, who’s still whimpering where she shakes on the bed, and dives back down to fit his mouth around her clit, sucking even as his tongue slides down and across her pussy to clean her up. Gemma’s hands press down on Harry’s head, pushing his face into her and he hums and moves his head from side to side as she flexes her thighs and comes yet again.

“No more, Harry, stop,” she gasps, as he continues during her orgasm, and Harry lifts his covered face to grin up at her, where she’s watching with her entire body covered in sweat and blush, looking completely exhausted. 

Gemma collapses onto her back, covering her face with her hands, and Harry crawls up to lay next to her on his side. Gemma feels his presence and rolls over into him, burying her covered face into his chest, and he chuckles, kissing her and rubbing down her back softly. “Was that okay?” He asks after a while, when she still hasn’t said anything, and he’s starting to grow a little worried that he hurt her. “Gem?”

Gemma nods into his chest, though, taking a shaky breath, and looks up at him. “Never – I – that’s never happened before,” she says, and Harry nods. He knows. “How – how’d you learn that?” She asks, sounding a little impressed, and Harry grins.

“You hang out with a group of boys and you’re bound to learn _something_ you can apply,” he says, and Gemma laughs a little breathlessly before she pushes Harry onto his back and scoots close to him again, every inch of her body pressed to his side, her head on his shoulder. She draws patterns on his torso and he hums into her hair because it feels good. 

“Your concert was fun,” she says after what feels like hours of comfortable, blissed-out silence.

Harry grins, because he knows this is her way of telling him she doesn’t want this trip to end any time soon – staying up after she’s tired to talk about meaningless things. He nods, humming in agreement. “Japan, after this,” he says, suggestion in his voice. “The fans there are really polite and respectful. Don’t even crowd us too bad on the streets. …They’re quiet during the songs, too,” he adds, so it doesn’t look like he’s blatantly begging her to come with them. 

But he feels Gemma smile against his chest, so he kisses the top of her head and asks anyway, “Will you come with me? To Japan?” Gemma sighs, like she always does, even though he knows she wants to go. “Eleanor will only be there a day, and you can leave and get home that Sunday, so it’s not so crowded and you can get ready for work.”

Gemma is silent for a while, thinking, and eventually she lifts her head, grinning devilishly. 

“What?” Harry asks, expecting something terrible.

“You have to be something _ridiculous_ for Halloween, and you have to take pictures and put it up online.” Harry weighs this quickly, but agrees, despite knowing she’s going to make him do something awful. “ _And_ you have to fuck me every night between here and then. If I don’t come at least three times a day, it doesn’t count.”

Harry smirks. “ _That_ , I have no problem with,” he says, and rolls over, tickling her until she pulls him down for a kiss.


End file.
